Ball and Chain
by Gimme-Chan
Summary: AU/crack. Prowl is assigned as ambassador in a foreign territory. The Emperor of the territory is pleased with Prowl and gifts him a slave...Jazz.  Prowl doesn't want a slave, however, Jazz is more than willing to please his new master...summary inside
1. The Gift

This bunny wouldn't STOP chewing on me. I've read several AU stories where Prowl has Jazz as a slave or servant and in all of them he seems to accept it, as its usually part of the culture he's brought up in. Then the bunny jumped me and got me thinking...what if Prowl had Jazz as a slave and Prowl didn't want a slave...what if he didn't accept slavery as ok but had to deal with it anyway? And that were this monster came from.

_Crack Plot Bunny to work with :_

_Prowl is assigned as an ambassador to a foreign territory. Unlike Praxus or Iacon, this territory still practices slavery. This practice disturbs Prowl even though the slaves seem very happy. Being ambassador, Prowl is required to live in the territory to help push a truce and ease communication concerns. As he is settling in, the Emperor shows up at his door with yet another gift, a slave just for him. Prowl reluctantly accepts the gift slave, unsure of how to deal with this situation as he's not about to use a slave._

_Jazz (said gift slave) is thrilled with his new master, who is handsome, exotic, kind, and soft spoken. He's more than eager to show his appreciation. However, Prowl won't let him do everything like he should and whats more frustrating, Prowl seems determined to keep something between them at all times, usually furniture. But Jazz is just as determined to please his master in every way possible._

**Warnings:**AU, total Crackverse, Mech on mech, slavery

Breem = about a min.

* * *

**Chapter One:**

**The gift**

* * *

Prowl slowly came to a stop once more in front of the vast picture window. He looked out at the unquestionably beautiful view. The crystal gardens, a recreation of those found in Praxus, were gorgeous as were the beautifully sculpted statues and below them ornately carved benches. Perfect for reading. Once he finished unpacking, he might have to indulge some and read a book file in the garden. Soak in the quiet serenity.

Prowl frowned. It really was too much, he wasn't use to such extravagance. A simple flat in the inner city would have sufficed. But the Emperor had insisted the Ambassador take residence in one of his many more picturesque estates, particularly this one given its Praxian décor. And Prowl had reluctantly agreed, not wanting to seem ungrateful. The Emperor took offense easy.

He still couldn't believe he had been assigned to this…to this…to this crazy arrangement. He was an Enforcer, NOT an Ambassador. Just because he was friends with several Senators and could calmly deal with huffy and hostile elites, generally getting all parties to find a common ground to agree on, did not make him suitable for inter-territorial relations. Especially THIS territory.

Prowl would like to call this territory primitive but their technology was just as advanced as Iacon's. It was the many cultural differences that really stood out. The main one being this territory, unlike Iacon and much of Cybertron, had not done away with slavery. In fact, it seemed almost all households here had at least one slave.

It disturbed Prowl. It went against his solid belief of independence and freewill, of being in control of one's own destiny. And seeing that the slaves here seemed….happy with their positions in life, did little to settle his mind.

A chime from the front entrance roused Prowl from his inner musings. Someone was at the front door. Setting the box he held down, he had to cross through three rooms just to reach the front door. Prowl shook his head.

_Primus, this is too much space!_

Upon opening the door, he was surprised to see the Emperor with a small entourage behind him which included Mirage, who spoke with Prowl often to explain the local customs and ways of the land.

Prowl gave a bow, opening the door wide. "Emperor, it is a pleasant surprise to see you again so soon. Please, come in."

The Emperor stepped in, his entourage staying behind, remaining just outside the front entrance.

The grand mech looked around at the boxes and crates that were stacked along various walls of the room. Prowl followed his gaze. "My apologies for the state of things -"

But the Emperor waved his apology away. "Not at all. But do tell me, Prowl, how like you your accommodations?"

"This estate is gorgeous. I can not thank you enough for allowing me to reside here for the duration of my stay. You are very generous, Sir."

The Emperor grinned at the praise. "I'm glad everything is to your liking, Ambassador Prowl. However, should that change or should you grow bored with these surroundings, you are to tell me immediately. I have a number of estates you can indulge in."

The Emperor turned to face Prowl completely, a delighted smile played on his lips. "Now, the purpose for my being here. I come bearing a gift for you, Ambassador."

That...was a surprise.

"A...a gift? I think allowing me to reside here is more than enough."

The Emperors smile widened. "Ah, but I am generous. You said so yourself. Now, I have brought with me, Ambassador Prowl, a gift beholden to one of your title and status here. A personal slave. Just for you."

Prowl almost choked on air.

_Oh, no no no no no.._

He hesitated a moment, thoughts scrambling in his mind to reason a way out of this situation gracefully.

He had nothing.

"...Emperor, please, with your indulgence, would you be so kind as to excuse me for one moment?"

The Emperor smiled and nodded. "Certainly."

"Yes, thank you…I'll be right…back." Prowl looked toward the door. "Mirage? May I speak with you in private, please?"

Mirage looked to his Emperor, who gave a nod, before following Prowl to a private study off the main entrance. Once the door was securely closed Prowl turned to Mirage. "What is the meaning of this!"

Mirage actually looked genuinely confused at his question. "What?"

"Why is the Emperor gifting me a slave!"

A slight shrug from the noble. "It is customary that most households, especially one of this magnitude, have slaves. Also taking into consideration your status, it would most certainly be expected you have a personal slave who can attend to you."

"This is not my house. I am not a citizen of this territory. And furthermore, I don't need attending to. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Still…"

Prowl sighed, "I can't have a slave, Mirage, it goes against everything I… I can't have a slave. Now, please, I don't want to offend the Emperor, so tell me how do I go about telling him 'Thank you but no'?"

"You don't."

"But-"

The noble stepped closer, voice dropping. "Listen, and listen to me well. Ambassador or not, you don't reject a gift from the Emperor. _No one _rejects a gift from the Emperor. No matter what. It's not done."

Prowl took in the seriousness of the tone. "Why not?"

"To tell the Emperor you refuse his gift is like….like…one our Ambassadors walking up to one of your Senators and slapping him in the face. It's a serious insult." Mirage hesitated, glancing at the door before speaking in a near whisper. "And if the Emperor so pleases, there can be consequences…very unpleasant consequences."

He looked at Mirage in disbelief. "So I have to accept a slave, even though I don't want one, or risk the Emperor's...wrath?"

"Yes."

Prowl shook his head and rubbed his forehead and Mirage sighed. "It's not so bad. You'll have someone to clean for you and bring you energon or whatever you like. Organize things…"

"I can do all that myself. I don't want a slave."

Mirage thought for a moment. "Well, you could always order the slave out of the room and pretend you don't have one."

Prowl groaned and rubbed the side of his head, warding off that familiar ache. Mirage held up his hands and tried to placate the distressed ambassador. "Ok, ok, look, just...treat him like you would a guest then. That's ok, right?"

Rubbing a hand over his face, Prowl let out a sigh. "No, not really, but I can't think of a way to avoid this without problems. It'll have to do for now."

Sighing again, Prowl started toward for the door, dreading. "Lets get this over with."

Smoothing his face into a neutral expression, Prowl, followed by Mirage, rejoined the Emperor by the main entrance. Prowl gave the Emperor a small bow. "Thank you again, Sir, for your indulgence. And I…..thank you for your generous gift as well. I'm honored."

The Emperor positively beamed at Prowl then gave a call to his entourage, waving his hand in a 'come here' manner. A mech previously standing in the back swiftly made his way to the front, stepping inside the house, quickly coming to kneel at his Emperor's feet, issuing a soft, "My Lord." as he bowed his head, gazing at the floor.

The Emperor looked at Prowl as a hand come to rest on the kneeling mech's black helm. "My gift to you, Prowl. Hand selected from my personal collection. He's been thoroughly trained to see to his Masters every desire. I believe he will serve and compliment you nicely."

The Emperor then turned his gaze down to the slave at his feet, his hand tilting the black helm up. The slave looked up at the Emperor, smiling. The blue visor that covered his optics shown bright. The Emperor's hand shifting to cup the mech's chin, looking straight into that glowing visor. "You are to serve your Master well. Serve him as you would your Emperor. Do not disappoint me."

The kneeling mech smiled. "Yes, My Emperor."

And when the Emperor released his chin, the slave turned an eager gaze to his new Master...one very uncomfortable Prowl.

* * *

Now Prowl was no stranger to uncomfortable situations. He'd experienced plenty of them, probably more than his fair share. However, being left alone in a house that wasn't his, in a territory he didn't belong to, being shoved into a position he didn't feel qualified for, with a slave he didn't want but now apparently 'owned', had to be the most uncomfortable situation he'd experienced to date.

As he looked at the slave left to his keeping, Prowl felt disturbed. The situation already taking on a surreal feeling. He didn't know what to do or say. The slave stood a small distance away, smiling eagerly and warmly at him. His head tilted ever so slightly to the side as he awaited Prowl's orders.

Prowl glanced around the room, wishing for something other than the slave to focus on. But there wasn't much and his gaze eventually settled back on the other black and white mech standing across from him. The slave continued to smile pleasantly at him and Prowl couldn't help but notice the slave looked hopeful, as if he couldn't wait for Prowl to issue his first order.

White fingers fidgeted, doorwings gave minute twitches. He opened his mouth to address the slave only to close it again, look around, and sigh.

He didn't know what to say!

He repeated these actions for a good breem.

Finally, he mustered up everything inside him, looked the slave square in the visor and took a deep breath.

"I'm going to go finish unpacking."

An awkward silence descended between them. The slave's smile never wavered but he looked a touch confused. Prowl looked at him for a moment longer before stiffly turning and walking back through the rooms leading to the back room, fully intending to resume the unpacking he'd been doing prior to the Emperor's arrival.

He opened a box and began sifting through it, breaking it down into two other boxes. One destined for the library and the other for his office, since here the rooms were separate. Back home they'd been one.

He gathered up several items placing them in the office box. Lifting a couple book files, he went to place them in the box for the library only to jerk back when he saw the slave holding the box out to him, an eager expression on his face.

Prowl stared at the slave. "What are you doing?"

The slave held out the box eagerly to Prowl. "I wish to help, Master. If it pleases Master, I can take these book files to the library and -"

Prowl cringed inside at the word 'Master' then shook his head. "No, no, no! You don't have to do that. It...that won't be necessary. I…" He quickly retrieved the box from the slave's hands. "I can take care of this."

The slave smiled warmly, black hands clasped in front of him. "How would Master like me to be of service?"

Looking at the mech a moment, Prowl's mind raced. Trying to grasp for something to say before remembering Mirage's comment about treating the slave like a guest. Prowl nodding toward the sofa. "Why don't you have a seat on the sofa."

"Yes, Master." The slave quickly walked over and sat down on the sofa, shifting so he was looking at Prowl.

Unnerved, Prowl backed up. "I'll…I'll be right back."

Turning on his heel, Prowl quickly walked down the hall to the library. As he turned to walk through the door he snuck a glance at the slave out of the corner of his optic. The slave remained exactly where Prowl had left him, on the sofa, smiling, eagerly watching Prowl's every move.

Once in the library, Prowl set the half empty box on a shelf and flopped into a chair.

He couldn't take this.

He was bound to glitch after long. The only positive he could see in that would be if he glitched badly enough, they'd have to send him back to Iacon….far, far away from all this madness.

Prowl rested his head on the back of the plush chair. He need to set up a room for the slave...better yet, he could have the slave set it up himself. It wasn't really 'slave' work to set up one's own room and it would keep him busy.

That was a good idea.

Prowl suddenly frowned. He didn't know the mech's name. Then he was hit by a horrid thought. Did slaves even have names? Or were they simply referred to as 'slave' or 'servant' or 'you there!'?

He had to find out.

Coming to stand in the hallway, just outside the library, his hand still on the door frame, he addressed the mech on the sofa. "I apologize for not asking this sooner, I should have, but what is your name?"

Prowl tensed, his grip on the door frame tightened as he braced himself, not sure if he'd like the answer the slave would give.

"Please, no apologies, Master."

The mech stood and bowed deeply to him, "My name is Jazz." Then the slave straighten and looked at Prowl, that warm smile still playing on his lips. "Of course if my name is not to Master's liking, I'd be honored if Master changed it."

Prowl held up a hand as he shook his head. "No, no! Jazz is a good name. I like it, it's perfect."

Prowl couldn't help but feel a little sick at the smile that bloomed on the slave's face. Prowl could clearly see the mech felt proud, happy, and honored that his 'Master' had approved of his name. His name!

Prowl had never cared if anyone liked or disliked his name. Never gave it any thought because it was his name. It was given to him at creation and he owned it. No one could take it from him or change it, he was Prowl. And before him stood a mech who didn't even have control or ownership over his own name.

Prowl swallowed the lump in his throat as he tried not to look horrified at how the slave, Jazz, beamed happily at him. Prowl cleared his throat. "Jazz, why don't you fix up a room for yourself?"

Jazz have a nod. "Yes, Master. And where would Master like me situated?"

Prowl gave a small shrug and pointed toward the elaborate staircase. "This place has to have 10 - 12 rooms, you're free to chose whichever room you like."

Prowl knew it wasn't much but it was some small form of freedom, a small opportunity for Jazz to pick something for himself without a Master directing his every move. Jazz seemed to hesitate a moment, his smile faltering a touch before he regained his footing.

"Yes, Master, I will do my best to please you."

Prowl fought back a frown, this wasn't about him. He had wanted Jazz to think of himself first, not him! Maybe if he could put them on the same level...

"And Jazz…"

Jazz looked at him eagerly. "Yes, Master?"

"You don't have to call me Master. You can call me by my name. You can call me Prowl."

Prowl watched that warm, eager smile slide right off Jazz's face. The slave took on a grave seriousness as he shook his head. "No, Master, I would never show you that kind of disrespect."

The gravity in Jazz's voice spoke volumes, stunning Prowl. The mech was serious.

Prowl took a breath and sighed.

_Well, slag, that hadn't worked._

"Ok…..alright….Um, why don't you go and start preparing your room then."

Jazz immediately went back to beaming that happy smile at Prowl. "Yes, Master, right away." Jazz gave a bow and quickly went upstairs to fulfill the task before him.

Prowl leaned against the wall, releasing a long sigh. This was a situation he never imagined himself being in. And as he looked up and down the vast, empty hall with boxes dotting the floor here and there, he suddenly felt….lonely….and, Primus help him, he missed his brothers...even Smokescreen.

* * *

Author's notes

Anyone got a stick I can use to beat the stupid plot bunnies away with? I promise to return it. Plot bunnies won't leave me be! I want to work on Black Mail or Should Have Known Better but NOOOO those bunnies won't come, instead I get some weird bunny that bites and won't let go...how for this, this has been in my notebook for AGES. For some reason the bunny reared its head and demanded attention. Of course its going to be PXJ but we'll also have some BlueXSunny sprinkled in there in a few for read! Reviews are always appreciated and loved! :)


	2. Ownership

Ok, its been…what…forever since I touched this? Well, maybe not that long but still…

Thank you to those who have sent me little prods and pokes along the way. And for the reviews! This has been sitting on the back burner and I hadn't planned on Chapter 2 forming so quickly, just kinda came together. Go figure.

Also, Gatekat and Flybystardancer have started a very wonderful story based on the first chapter called "Trials of an Ambassador". It's sexy! And a good read.

**Warning for this chapter:** AU, total Crackverse, Mech on mech, slavery

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Ownership

* * *

He.

Was.

Exquisite.

In all his time, from his earliest memory to this very moment, he had never set optics on a mech so handsome, so enchanting, so intoxicatingly smooth and exotic as the Praxian Ambassador.

His Master.

Whose shiveringly smooth voice did so much more than just command. An exceptional tone that sent hot thrills chasing through his systems. Made his insides clench with anticipation and melt for the very same reason. Made his knees feel weak and heat pool in him as the sweetest little fleeting fantasies played out on the edges of his mind.

Were he not already a slave, he would have gladly become one just to hear his Master's voice directed at him, every day. And when his Master had spoken his name... Jazz hadn't been able to contain the shiver that started at the base of his back strut and flared outward. He could've melted, becoming a liquid pool of need hugging his Master's feet.

_His_ Master. His to serve. His to please.

Jazz paused once he reached the top of the stairs, looking down the hall. His Master had given him the task of choosing a room and setting it up for himself. The task felt like a challenge, a test. And Jazz wanted to do right, wanted to please his Master. Show him….something, anything that would prove to his Master he was capable and eager to take on any task, anything his Master could or would ask of him.

But the command had been vague, leaving much to interpretation. Had the Emperor made such a request, Jazz would've known what to do. He'd been taught long ago what pleased and displeased the Emperor. But what pleased or displeased his Master? It was information he didn't have yet. He would have to rely on what little he knew so far and guess the rest, carefully. To displease his Mater so soon would be shameful.

Walking slowly, quietly down the hall, Jazz opening every door he came to and looking in. Curious at each rooms contents but careful not to over step any boundaries. Half way down the hall to his right, he finally happened upon his Master's room.

Standing in the doorway, not daring to set foot in his Master's private quarters without permission, he looked over the room, drank it in. His Master rested here. That thought alone sent a heady rush of want through him.

But the room...

In it the berth was made, the satiny top sheet perfectly smoothed out, the soft helm rest placed neatly at the head of the berth. There were shelves and stacks of book files, some organized, others in the process of. Every surface was neat, tidy, and clean.

Jazz frowned, finding it most despairing his Master had done all this himself. This was slave work. His work. It was wrong his Master had used his time, valuable, important time, to perform such menial tasks. He wished he would've been sent here sooner.

Closing the door softly, Jazz continued his explorations down the hall. Opening a door to his left he found a fairly nice sized room. At the moment, it held only a berth and dust. A quick glance back down the hall at his Master's door and Jazz decided this room was perfect. Far enough from his Master's room to give him ample privacy, yet close enough to hear should his Master call for him.

Smiling, Jazz entered the room and set to work.

* * *

Prowl sighed, wearily tossing aside what he had decreed his last box of the evening. The rest of the unpacking could wait till tomorrow. He was tired. Mentally and emotionally drained. And he was procrastinating, his mind grasping at anything that would hold off the eventual encounter with Jazz. But, he'd have to face the poor mech some time.

He looked over toward the elegant staircase. Jazz had been gone for a good while. Maybe...just maybe, the slave had made a run for it. Escaped the house and was, at this very moment, racing toward his freedom.

So very unlikely, but he could wish.

It was with slow, almost agonizingly reluctant steps he climbed the staircase. He felt weighted down, even as an illogical urge to just make some wildly mad dash for his room surged through him. It was quickly squashed. That would be totally inappropriate. He was an Ambassador and would behave like one. He wouldn't go running from this territories' customs like a sparkling would a shadow. He also had a strange feeling that no matter how fast he could run, Jazz would be able to keep up with him...easily.

He dreaded those last few steps, knowing, just knowing what he'd see when he got to the top. He hadn't heard anything, no sound, saw no shadow move against the wall, but he knew.

And he was right.

That crystalline blue visor flashed bright as Jazz caught sight of him. The slave stood outside his berthroom door, hands clasped in front of him, positively beaming. Prowl had to force himself to continue on, to take those next steps leading him down the hall, toward his room, toward Jazz.

The slave ratiated an almost quivering happiness as he neared. He wasn't use to anyone being this happy to see him...save for his little brother.

Jazz gave a smooth bow as he approached. "Master."

Prowl tried not to flinch at the title. "Jazz. Did you found a room suitable for you and to your liking?"

"Yes, Master." And he gestured to the door just down the hall.

Of course. He really should have guessed.

"If Master wishes to inspect -"

"No! No, no, that's fine. I trust your judgment. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

He went to walk past Jazz, full intending to lock himself in his room, but the slave spoke up, stopping him. "Would Master like some energon or high grade before recharge."

"No, thank you." That was the last thing he needed.

Jazz's smile turned soft, his visor dimming as he bowed his head, his demeanor becoming almost shy. "Will Master be partaking of my services this night?"

What? Prowl frowned, arching a brow ridge as he looked at Jazz, confused. Services? What other services could he possible partake in this late at night? He was tired, he wanted to recharge. Primus, this place was confusing.

"No, thank you. Recharge well, Jazz." He moved to enter his room when Jazz stopped him again.

"What time should I rise for Master?"

Rise? Why? At Prowl's confused expression, Jazz continued, "If Master could please tell me what time Master prefers to take his morning energon and what kind, I shall have it ready for Master."

Oh.

He looked at Jazz and was actually...irritated. Not at Jazz, but at the whole slavery concept. It seemed overly lazy and disgracefully arrogant of these mechs that thought they needed, wanted, or deserved another to fetch for them something simple as their morning energon. They didn't have servants or staff that required payment for the services they rendered, who also had the choice, the freedom, to stay or leave their place of employment as they wished. No. They chose to have slaves, individuals trained to bend to the whim of a Master. Their wants and needs, their happiness muted for the sake of another's selfishness and self indulgence.

Unbelievable, just unbelievable.

Prowl shook his head. "That will not be necessary, Jazz. I'm perfectly capable of retrieving my own energon in the morning. As far as what time you should rise, I leave that entirely up to you. You may recharge for as long as you like and rise whenever you choose."

Jazz looked...shocked, confused, a little lost and unsure even. Prowl wasn't surprised, the mech has spent his entire life bowing to the whims of others. Freedom to chose for himself probably felt strange and foreign to him.

"Have a good recharge, Jazz." He swept past Jazz, even though he could see questions, protests wanting to form on the mech's lips. "I'll see you in the morning." He closed the door quickly behind him, then leaned back against it.

This was exhausting.

He slumped forward, pushed off the door, quickly crossing the room to sprawl out over the berth. Venting a tired sigh, he knew what he needed. A plan. Everything was better when he had a plan. And a schedule. Everything was better with plans and schedules. But Jazz threw a wrench into all that.

If he made plans and schedules that included Jazz, he was essentially perpetuating the slave system by telling Jazz what he was going to do. If he didn't include Jazz in his plans and schedules, Jazz would become a loose variable that could, unintentionally, hinder his plans and schedules, which meant Jazz would require his instruction and then he'd STILL be essentially perpetuating the slave system by telling Jazz what he wanted him to do.

With a groan, Prowl rolled over and buried his face in the soft material of the helm rest. He'd have to think more on it tomorrow. He'd plan to work on a plan tomorrow. That was the best he could do right now.

Expelling another sigh he made himself comfortable on the berth, letting his systems wind down, falling into a deep, if not slightly troubled, recharge.

* * *

Jazz stared at his Master's door. The shock he'd felt at his Master's words had melted away into a pained sadness.

He walked slowly back to the room his Master had gifted him. Glance over his shoulder at his Master's closed door.

His poor Master. His words proving just how ill treated and neglected he was.

Had been.

Had been because Jazz would certainly not allow such mistreatment, such neglect to continue. The slaves in Iacon or Praxus may not take pride in their Master's happiness and quality of life but things were different here. He would show his Master, prove to him that he deserved to be treated with the utmost honor, dignity, and respect.

Pausing in the doorframe of his room, Jazz glanced back one more time at his Master's door, feeling a renewed sense of determination. He realized now it was going to take time to undo the vorns and vorns of mistreatment and damage his Master had undoubtedly suffered at the hands of selfish, lazy slaves. His Master's expectations were far too low. He deserved more, so much more.

It was in Jazz's hands now. It was now his responsibility to take care of his Master. To ensure his Master's happiness. To help him understand.

He would not let his Master down.

* * *

Authors notes -

Notice Jazz views Prowl as _his_ Master. Not so much assignment as ownership in that train of thought. *wink wink*  
Reading and review is always loved and appreciated.


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